Go Far: Adaptation
by Archeon Zephyr
Summary: Stranded on the unexplored side of the world, Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay face the challenge of merging their two crews. The Seafleeters and the renegades have to learn to work together to survive. That is, if they don't kill each other first.
1. Oil And Water

_Captain's Log, 6-02-210 FE: It's been four days since the death of the Caretaker and we must now begin the process of working together to make our way home. Integrating the two crews has proven to be more difficult than I anticipated. Chakotay assures me he'll do his best to ease the process and I've no choice but to agree. The friction between the renegades and Seafleeters is high. Nobody trusts each other and tempers are flaring over minor disputes. These problems need to be settled, and quickly, if we're ever to resume our journey._

The midday sun filtered into the windows of the captain's office, shining on the table where Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Tuvok stood gathered around it. The table was covered several sheets of paper, all of which bore names. They had been discussing the best way to further integrate the two crews. So far, it wasn't progressing as smoothly as Janeway hoped. Chakotay kept suggesting his people be put in key positions that she wasn't sure they could handle, especially since several of them had never even finished at the academy.

"The next officer in line for the position of bosun is Lieutenant Carey," said Tuvok, bringing her attention back to the moment.

"Is he ready to take on that position?" asked Tuvok. "His service record says he was a gunner for many years before becoming a deckhand. He has comparatively less experience in that division."

"I know," said Janeway. "But he has seniority. Hopefully, he can build on what he knows with field experience."

"Captain," said Chakotay, "If you aren't certain, maybe you should consider someone else. There are several people on my crew who have been riggers for many years – they're bound to have the skill you need in a good officer."

"Seafleet protocol is clear," she said. "If an officer is killed in action, the next senior officer takes his place."

"With all due respect, Captain, you might consider being more flexible in interpreting those rules. Experience will keep us out of trouble, not seniority."

Janeway felt her stomach grow tight at his suggestion.

"Commander, the rules are in place to maintain discipline and, with this ship so far from home, now is not the time to reinterpret them," she said. "Your time as a Seafleet officer before you joined the renegades makes you uniquely qualified to be my first officer. Many of your comrades don't the have Seafleet experience necessary to function as officers."

"Then maybe you need to look beyond just Seafleet experience," he said.

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," called Janeway, grateful for the pause in the tense discussion.

Ensign Kyoto, looking nervous for walking in on a meeting of the ship's highest officers, gulped and stepped inside. Janeway nodded at her, giving her permission to speak.

"Sorry for the interruption Captain," Kyoto said, "But a fight's broken out in the mess hall."

"What?" Janeway said, stunned. She gave Tuvok a glance of disbelief, then bolted out the door, with him and Chakotay on her heels. Together, the three officers dashed down the ladder into the chaos below decks. There, two men pummeled each other, crashing over benches and tables, sending food and drink flying in every direction. No one was doing anything to stop the fight. In fact, the rest of the crew stood in a circle around them shouting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Some of these people were pushing and shoving as they yelled and Janeway knew it would turn into a full-scale brawl if she didn't act immediately. She and Tuvok shoved their way through the crowd, trying to get at the combatants.

"Crewmen, that's enough!" she shouted. She tried to pull the fighters apart and nearly caught an elbow in the face for her trouble. Tuvok appeared and shoved his way between them. There was a brief moment when they struggled to strike each other again, but another push from Tuvok convinced them it was a bad idea. They straightened before the captain; still shooting each other dirty looks. It was then that they realized they were in serious trouble and both of them came to attention, looking properly guilty. Water dribbled down Dalby's face and onto his chest, while a slice of meat slid down Harrison's arm and landed with a splat on the floor. In another time and place, Janeway might have laughed at how ridiculous they looked, but right now, she was furious with them.

"Crewmen Dalby and Harrison," she said, planting her hands on her hips, "I expected better from you. There will be no brawling on my ship. From now on, you settle your personal problems like civilized people. You're both restricted to half rations for three days. Report immediately to the pumps."

Harrison protested. "But Captain-"

"_Four _days." She waited to see if either of them would protest, but both had the sense to keep their mouths shut. "Dismissed."

As they turned and headed for the ladder, Dalby mumbled something darkly.

"What was that, Crewman?"

Dalby turned and looked at her. "Nothing, Captain." She glared at him and he descended. Then she turned to face the rest of the crew.

"As for the rest of you, this is completely unacceptable. You are all Seafleet officers now and I expect you to act like it! No more encouraging brawls for fun and sport, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" they answered.

"Good. Lunch is over. Get this mess cleaned up, then report topside. You'll all be swabbing the deck until it shines and Mr. Tuvok will be supervising. Tuvok, if any one of them refuses to cooperate, their punishment is up to you."

"Understood, Captain," said Tuvok.

"And if I ever have to break up another fight on this ship, it's 0500 drills for everyone until further notice. Dismissed!"

Janeway turned and climbed the ladder, listening to the sounds of everyone moving to clean up the mess hall. Chakotay followed her.

"Don't you think you're being a little harsh?" he said.

"Not at all. A little mutual hardship has a way of bringing people together. I'm hoping it will give them some common ground."

"I meant Dalby and Harrison's punishment. Putting them on half rations is pretty serious."

She stopped and turned to face him. "Would you prefer for me to use corporal punishment? I'd rather not have to resort to flogging the crew."

"Of course not."

"Then what's your suggestion? How did you deal with crewmembers who refused to cooperate?"

Chakotay thought for a moment, then shrugged. "With a right hook. That was just how we did things. I assume that's not going to work with the Seafleeters."  
>"Certainly not," she said. She continued on into her office, leaving Chakotay on the deck to collect his thoughts.<p>

The rest of the day passed, thankfully, without incident. Tensions ran high, but the crews were attempting to be civil to each other. There were still setbacks, despite their best efforts. Seafleeter crewmen refused to follow orders from renegade officers without getting the approval of the commanding officer first, while drills and some procedures were slowed by the renegades' unfamiliarity with Seafleet protocol. Chakotay finally had to pull all the renegades aside and give them a crash course in saluting, coming to attention, forming ranks and what each of the piped calls on the whistle meant. There was more to protocol than knowing how to stand in order, but that would come later. Chakotay made a mental note to draw up a list of all the things he'd need to catch them up on. Come to think of it, he might need a refresher or two of his own. He decided to consult with the captain after his watch. In the meantime, he was needed on deck to supervise repairs. Carey and the Seafleeter deckhands were as proficient as he remembered Seafleeters being from his time as an officer. But his time as renegade made him realize just how wasteful Seafleeters could be. The crew was using line as if they were going to find more in a few weeks, instead of months. Chakotay knew from experience that they were going to have to find a way to conserve their resources and quickly. With a sigh, he added that to the mental list of things he had to speak to the captain about. Maybe she'd consider adopting some of Torres' ideas for conservation – B'Elanna was a genius when it came to improvising something out of next to nothing.

He stayed to watch a little while longer and to see how Carey was dealing with the crew assigned to him; Torres in particular. She had little patience for anyone who didn't do exactly what she told them to back on their original ship, and now that she had to answer to someone else – well, it was a good thing he was here to keep an eye on her. Oh, Carey was a fine deckhand and a good replacement for their late bosun, but whether or not he and Torres would be able to work together without fighting was another question altogether. Carey was shooting her dirty looks when he passed her. Normally, Chakotay would have ignored it, were it not for the hate he saw in the other man's eyes. Anyone else might have ignored it, but Chakotay recognized that look. It was the same one the renegades gave the Cardassians. Maybe he was over thinking the whole thing, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He called Carey over.

"Mr Carey," he began, "I won't pretend to know you well, but if I had to guess from the looks you keep giving her, I would say you aren't fond of Lieutenant Torres."

"With all due respect, sir-" Chakotay didn't care for his sarcastic emphasis on 'sir,' but kept silent "- I don't see how my attitude toward that woman concerns you."

Chakotay bristled. "It concerns me because you don't seem to have a lot of respect for her."

"Respect has to be earned, sir," Carey replied, again sarcastically emphasizing his words.

"Maybe so, but I don't appreciate your attitude toward a fellow officer. At least have some respect for her skills and experience."

Carey's eyes hardened. "I'm sure I will, when she demonstrates that skill."

Chakotay narrowed his own eyes. "As you were, Lieutenant. And keep that attitude of yours in check."

"Yes, sir," said Carey, turning away. As soon as he was gone, Chakotay rubbed his face with his hand, trying to chase off a headache. Carey's attitude was going to get him in trouble. But, the only thing to be done at this point was to wait and see. Chakotay turned and went back to work.

At dinner, the crew headed to the mess deck, looking forward to a good meal after a hard day's work. There was now no evidence of a brawl at all, which impressed Chakotay. Dalby and Harrison had managed to fling food almost everywhere, even up into the support beams. The fact that nothing remained spoke highly of the crew's attention to cleanliness or said much about Tuvok's stern supervision. Now though, the crew sat around three or four tables, unenthusiastically picking at their food. Paris sat at a table by himself, which didn't fill Chakotay with sadistic glee like he thought it would. He had expected the renegades to steer clear of him, but he thought at least one or two Seafleeters might have felt sorry for him. Paris had never told him exactly what he had done to get himself kicked out of Seafleet during the time they worked together, but judging by the way the others treated him, it must have been pretty terrible. He knew from rumors and gleaned information that someone had been hurt or possibly killed, but that was it. It had happened some time ago, too. By the time Chakotay had found him, Paris had been out of Seafleet for three years. People in the Federation didn't forgive and forget very easily, it seemed.

Dismissing his musings, Chakotay looked up to the serving counter, which separated the galley from the rest of the deck, and it was there that the cook stood arguing with Neelix.

"Look Neelix, I appreciate all the food you gave us," said the cook, "But I can handle this myself."

"But you don't know how to prepare it," whined Neelix, making a grab for the knife the cook was holding. "You're mixing the wonderful leola root with those nasty red squishy things – they don't go together! You're ruining it!"

The cook yanked the knife out of reach, hardly difficult due to Neelix's short stature. "That leola root is too bitter to eat on its own," he said. "I have to mix it with something or else no one will be able to stomach it. The tomatoes compliment it – really, they do."

"I will have you know I used to be head chef for the Ankarin trade caravan for two years and I know what I'm talking about. And I say you're ruining it!"

The cook elbowed Neelix out of the way and went back to chopping tomatoes and the root on the back counter. "And I'll have you know that I was trained for this while I was at the academy for four years. This is my job- would you just let me do it in peace?"

Kes, who had been serving soup to the crew at the front counter, put a hand on Neelix's arm.

"Neelix, just let him work," she said gently. "If he wants your advice, I'm sure he'll ask for it. Why don't you chop up some more ingredients? We need to make some more stew."

The cook nodded at her words and Neelix threw his hands up.

"Fine! Do what you like with ingredients you know nothing about, but don't come crying to me when the crew is up in arms about how awful it all tastes."

By this time, Chakotay had reached the counter and Kes served him a bowl of stew.

"Have they been arguing like this all day?" he asked her.

"No, just since he started cooking dinner." She smiled and he returned it. Neelix saw them talking and came over.

"Commander, I hope you plan to punish this man for the outrageous abuse he is subjecting my foodstuffs to. This culinary mistreatment is nothing short of criminal!"

"Neelix, it's just food," said Chakotay.

"_Just food?_" Neelix looked aghast. "Commander, food is the very essence of life itself! The manner in which it's prepared matters just as much as it's nutrients. Any chef worth his cooking pot will tell you that a meal prepared with care and attention has a certain indefinable quality that adds to the wholeness of the meal, making it that much more enjoyable. The way he's throwing these ingredients together suggests he doesn't care at all! It's terrible!"

"Well, I'm sorry you're so upset, but as much as you probably don't want to hear this, the crew probably won't notice. Most of us don't really care how our food is prepared, so long as it's nourishing and tastes good."

Neelix scoffed and folded his arms, obviously taking the whole thing personally. The cook took no notice and got back to work. Chakotay suddenly realized he didn't even know the man's name. He opened his mouth to ask just as Crewman Harrison walked up.

"Can I get some more?" Harrison asked.

"You're on half rations, Harrison," said Chakotay. "Whatever he already gave you is all you get."

"But that's not fair," said Harrison. "I was never punished like this on any other ship. The captain's being too harsh! How am I supposed to get any work done on an empty stomach?"

Neelix turned with pleading eyes to the commander. "Commander Chakotay, he's right. How could anyone be expected to do any work without any strength?"

"It's not like you're not getting any food, Harrison," said Chakotay. "The more you complain, the harder you make it on yourself."

Harrison ignored him and turned back to Neelix. "Just give me another serving of hardtack. I promise I won't tell the captain!"

Neelix turned to the cook, but before he said anything, the cook interrupted him. "Forget it, Neelix. I'm not going against the captain's orders. Either make yourself useful or get out of my galley before I throw you out."

Neelix, finally outmatched, slumped over to the stove and stoked the cooking fire.

Harrison, unable to believe how little anyone cared about him, turned to address everyone sitting there.

"Don't any of you care that I'm suffering?"

From the table with one occupant, Paris spoke up. "Harrison, nobody likes a whiner."

Harrison tossed his dish on the counter and walked away, defeated. Chakotay sat down at another empty table. He didn't give a damn if the Seafleeters liked him or not, but they were supposed to respect his authority. Granted, he hadn't explicitly given Harrison an order, but he should have at least listened when Chakotay told him to stop. The fact that he had only backed down when Paris said something rankled even more. Chakotay consoled himself with the idea that being called a whiner was what made Harrison stop, not Paris. Yes, that was more acceptable, he thought to himself as he sat down at another empty table. He took a mouthful of stew and grimaced. The cook must have done very poorly in his classes if this was any indication of his academy training.

Paris watched Harrison slink away down the ladder. He stirred at the stew without interest, waiting for the hardtack to soak up enough liquid to become soft enough to chew. Harrison, a Seafleet officer, should know better than to whine about his punishment. Maybe they just weren't toughening them up at the academy like they used to back in his days. Had some of the powers that be decided to do away with hell week? Paris winced inwardly. Just mentioning the name brought back the harsh days of traversing grueling terrain while trying to cope with three hours of sleep and one meal a day. He would have been grateful for three half meals in those days. Hell week separated the children from the adults. No Seafleet officer who had survived hell week would have whined about half rations.

_You mean a Seafleet officer like you?_ a sarcastic voice in his mind sneered. _You, who got yourself thrown out, staining the family name?_

Paris ignored it. He had been a pretty decent officer in his day. For a while, he imagined his father might have even been proud of him.

_Until you ruined everything when you –_

Paris mentally took the voice by the throat and strangled it. There wasn't anything he could do about the past. Besides, he had his hands full dealing with the repercussions of his mistake these days. He wasn't surprised that the renegades hated him for betraying their location to Seafleet, but he was annoyed by how much the Seafleeters seemed to resent him. He looked up from his bowl to see several people giving him wary glances. They all immediately turned back to their food when they saw him looking.

_At least the captain trusts me,_ he thought, but it was cold comfort. He forced another bite down with a grimace.

Later that night, well into gamma shift, Captain Janeway came down to the mess deck to get out of the night wind. Other crewmembers must have had the same idea, because all the tables were filled. The Seafleeters occupied the port tables, playing card games or sipping drinks. The renegades likewise filled the starboard tables, repairing their worn out clothing and playing somewhat rowdier dice games. Janeway frowned at the sight. She hadn't expected them all to be friends right from the start, but no one even made an effort to break up this segregation. Well, then perhaps it was up to her. As captain, it was her responsibility to set a good example and demonstrate how they should all get along.

…Or was it? She had been taught at the academy that, as captain, she was expected to maintain a distance from her crew. A kind of professional detachment. Getting friendly with the crew might undermine her authority and since they spent their days at each other's throats that was the last thing she wanted. Fine, then. She'd maintain her distance, leading the crew with a firm, if aloof, hand. She cared about them, and wanted them to know it, but for now, she would just have to treat them fairly and hope that was enough. Personal relationships could wait until they were more unified.

A die, too enthusiastically shaken, flew across the hall and smacked Ensign Ashmore right in the face. Janeway looked up at the yelp of surprise that followed.

"All right, whose is this?" Ashmore shouted, jumping up.

"It's mine," said Crewman Henley, on the other side of the hall. "Guess it got away from me. Toss it here."

She held out her hand, but Ashmore didn't move.

"Where I come from, it's considered good manners to apologize," said the ensign. Henley shrugged.

"You're not hurt. It was an accident. Can I have it back?"

"Not until you apologize. Wouldn't want you to have another 'accident.'"

Henley frowned at Ashmore, who stood with his arms folded.

"Fine, keep it," Henley huffed, turning back to her game.

"Fine. It's probably stolen anyway," Ashmore mumbled. At that, Henley jumped to her feet.

"Say that again," Henley growled, pacing out to the middle of the mess hall. The room had gone quiet and every eye was on them.

"I said, it's probably stolen," said Ashmore. "Everyone knows the renegades are thieves and hoodlums. Going around stealing from civilians, capturing ships, raising hell-"

"Don't talk about it like you know what it's like!" said Henley. "You have no idea-"

"Hey! Calm down!" said Crewman Jurot, stepping between the pair before they could exchange blows. "There's no need for this. We're all on the same side here." She turned to Henley. "Maria, you'd want him to apologize if the same thing happened to you. And Mike,-" she looked at Ashmore - "don't get so bent out of shape next time."

"Fine," said Henley. "I'm sorry."

"Accepted. Here," he said, handing her the die.

"Thank you," she said very pointedly. With one last glare at each other, they walked away and sat at their respective tables. Now that the crisis averted, the conversations in the room broke out again and Jurot let out a sigh of relief.

From her vantage point, Janeway felt the tension in her stomach dissolve. The fact that they could work out their problems was a good sign indeed. Hopefully, becoming unified wouldn't take as long as she thought. She turned and headed back up the ladder.


	2. Confrontations

Chapter 2- Confrontations

The next morning, Captain Janeway called a meeting for the senior officers. Chakotay, Tuvok, Paris and Kim joined her in her office and they spent the first half of the meeting reviewing the duty roster. Complaints and concerns were noted and the roster was adjusted accordingly until everyone was satisfied. Half an hour later, everything seemed to be on the level, so she changed the subject.

"Now that we're done sorting the junior officers," said Janeway, " I'd like to hear any suggestions you have about finding a way to replenish our supplies."

"Actually, Captain," said Tuvok. "I have one more suggestion. Ensign Mulcahey's performance during the Firestorm was quite exemplary. I would like him to be transferred to elite guard as an archer permanently."

The captain nodded thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea. I wonder why Seafleet didn't assign him to be an archer to begin with?"

"What's he doing right now?" asked Paris.

Before she could answer, the door of the office suddenly banged open and there stood Neelix and Kes.

"I'm sorry for being so late, Captain," said Neelix, "but nobody told us there was a meeting." He looked around the table. "There don't seem to be enough chairs…"

"Mr. Neelix, this meeting is for senior officers only."

"Yes and as the senior Talaxian and senior Ocampa on board, I think you'll find our input most valuable. We are the only friendly faces you've met so far and we know more about these waters than you do, right now."

Janeway gave Tuvok a look, not quite believing Neelix's boldness. Tuvok merely raised his eyebrows, acknowledging the absurdity of it, but nothing more.

"Very well, Mr. Neelix," she said, "You may join us, but just this once."

"Thank you, Captain!" Neelix dropped into the last empty chair and Paris kindly gave his up so Kes would have a place to sit.

"So, returning to the topic of replenishing our supplies: I am aware we can make do with what we have. The commander and I have already taken steps to ration them further, but it's only a temporary solution. Basically, we need a source of income. Becoming a merchant ship for some company out here is sure to hamper our efforts of getting home and, obviously, I'm not going to consider piracy. Right now, what I need from each of you are ideas for getting money."

Neelix raised his hand. "If I may, Captain."

She nodded at him to continue, grateful for his manners.

"My first suggestion would be to sell everything you don't need. Things like your steel ingot, extra line, spare tools, even your extra clothes and uniforms. If it doesn't have at least two uses, sell it."

"I must remind you, Mr. Neelix," said Tuvok, "that Seafleet regulations are very strict about uniforms. The captain has stated that all regulations will be observed, no doubt including those regarding proper duty and dress wear."

"Yes, I've seen the fancy version of your uniforms, Mr. Vulcan, and they will fetch quite a price with any well-established cloth-merchants you come across."

Tuvok's eyebrows drew a millimeter closer together. "The captain has already stated-"

"The captain can change whatever rules she likes, Tuvok," said Janeway. "Neelix has made a good point. If the dress uniforms are worth something, we'll sell them."

"Captain, you have made it clear-"

"If it's a choice between looking like slobs at a party and not having enough food, then we'll look like slobs. Now, what ideas do you have for a steady source of income?"

Neelix, warming to his role as a source of knowledge, said, "Well, speaking from experience, scavenging and trading can be profitable, especially once I teach you what I know. I scratched out a pretty decent life for myself."

"It's a good suggestion," said Chakotay, "but we've got a crew of nearly forty to think of. We need to do better than just scraping by."

Neelix nodded and scratched his whiskers, deep in thought. Kes cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. Janeway nodded at her, encouraging her.

"Neelix told me that cargo running is a good way to make money. Couldn't we do that?"

"Not if we want to keep heading for home," said Paris. "Once we agree to be cargo runners, we have to keep working for the same company. They would tell us where to go and what to carry."

"What if we only agreed to ship cargo in the direction we're already heading?"

"We'd still be tied to one company."

Chakotay looked at the captain. "What if we were freelance runners? A ship for hire, one way only?"

Janeway considered this, then turned to Neelix. "Are freelancers common here?"

"There are a fair few, but without an agency to report to, you might be asked to ship some, shall we say, less than legal goods."

Chakotay shrugged at that, but Janeway frowned.

"Well, it's an option anyway," she said. "Any other ideas?"

The rest of the officers started talking over each other, putting out and rejecting different ideas. Some of Paris' ideas weren't exactly Seafleet approved and Chakotay shot them down. Tuvok's ideas weren't bad, but most of them relied on having a good reputation in nearby waters, and Neelix was careful to remind them all that as far as the people of the Far Sea were concerned, _Voyager_ didn't exist or was considered an enemy of the Kazon. Neelix's ideas were the most likely to work, but the commander and the captain had to remind him that his methods could only support one or two sailors, not an entire crew. Kim listened to all of them with interest. Everyone's ideas had something to do with trading or shipping cargo. What they really needed was a way to produce something on board and sell it in port. They could make art, but that was no guarantee. They could make cloth, but they needed equipment for that. What could they make on board and sell ashore that people wanted to buy?

And suddenly, he knew. He made a noise to suggest something, but looked down and away when the captain turned to him.

"Ensign, did you have something you wanted to add?" she asked

Kim swallowed. He didn't want to break protocol by coming up with an idea that none of the officers had suggested first, but he hadn't spoken out of turn, so maybe it was all right for him to give his idea.

"Captain, I was thinking – what if we could produce and sell salt?"

"How?" asked Paris. He and the other senior officers were paying full attention to Kim now, and he straightened, feeling confident.

"We boil seawater until only the salt remains, collect it and sell it. One of my uncles did it on his fishing boat for extra cash, but if we had someone boiling out salt all day and night, we'd have plenty in no time."

"Not a bad idea," said Chakotay. "Is there a demand for salt in these waters?"

"Oh, people always want salt," said Neelix. "In fact, there are a few ports where you can use salt to pay for things instead of money."

"All right then," said Janeway. "Mr Kim, I want a proposal on my desk by tomorrow morning. Let me know what materials you think you'll need."

Kim blinked. "You want to put me in charge?"

"It was your idea."

Kim gave an uncertain grin for just a moment, then was all business again. "Yes, Captain," he said. "I'll do my best."

Janeway had to suppress a grin of her own at his enthusiasm. Beside Kim, Kes lifted her hand.

"Yes, Kes?"

"If we're going to produce goods on board, why not grow plants or raise animals as well? Growing our own food will help cut costs."

"Good thinking. I'll expect a proposal from you too."

They discussed other ideas for a little longer until the captain was satisfied everyone's opinion had been heard, then she dismissed them to their duties. Chakotay waited until everyone else had left to speak to her alone.

"Something on your mind, Commander?" she asked.

"I'd like you to consider B'Elanna Torres as the new bosun."

She regarded him coolly, unsure of what he was getting at. "Lieutenant Carey has seniority."

"I know. But from what I understand of Carey, he hasn't been doing it as long as she has. She has more experience."

She frowned. "I'm not prepared to put someone so unfamiliar with Seafleet protocols in such an influential position."

"You put me in an influential position."

"You're different. You've been an officer in Seafleet before."

"At least see what she can do. Put her and Carey on a shift together, watch them work and then you can decide."  
>Her frown lightened. That sounded more reasonable. "Fine."<p>

Chakotay turned and left, feeling a little conflicted. He wanted B'Elanna to have the chance she deserved, but whether or not she and Carey could work together without arguing or fighting was another thing altogether.

Once the meeting had finished, everyone filed outside, still discussing ideas. As she came out, Kes suddenly gasped, hunching her shoulders.

"What is it?" demanded Neelix. "What's wrong?"

"Where is all that water coming from?" she asked.

Paris held out his hand. "It's just the rain. No big deal."

Kes extended her own hands. "Rain… My father told me stories about when it used to rain on our island – years and years ago, in my ancestor's time, when they lived above the ground – but I always thought it was absurd. Water, falling from the sky? Who would believe it? But here it is, falling on me!"

Neelix and Paris shared a look of amusement at her innocence.

"We always had to bring water up from the river or collect it from the walls of the cave," she went on, now reaching up for the sky, "but rain just falls. All we'd have to do is catch it. If we built our gardens outside, we wouldn't have to water them – the rain would do all the work. This is so amazing!"

Neelix beamed, happy to see her so delighted.

"Well, you'd better hope this is just rain. Storms can be pretty unpleasant out at sea," said Paris. Chakotay moved past them just then, heading for Tuvok. In his hand was a copy of the duty roster.

"Huh," said Paris.

"What?" asked Kes.

"I thought the duty roster had been set already. Someone must have gotten reassigned. I'd better make sure it isn't me."

"Why would Chakotay move someone around when he said the roster had been finished?" wondered Neelix.

"It's probably a correction," said Kes. "He said he was going to be fair."

"I cannot believe this!" Torres bellowed, pacing back and forth in the small room. Not an easy task, as the deck was pitching up and down in the roughening sea. "He said we were going to be fairly treated – how do you call this fair?"

Ensign Claire Strickler sat on a crate on the far side of the room, legs dangling over the side. "Calm down. What's not fair?"

"Tuvok just posted the new duty roster. They're making me work with that bigot Carey on the beta shift! He hates me – how am I supposed to get anything done?"

"Oh come on. How do you know he's a racist? He might just dislike you because you're a renegade, like everyone else does."

Torres rolled her eyes. "Please. You think I can't spot a bigot a mile off? My mother and I were the only Klingons on a settlement of Humans. Nobody ever said anything, but we could tell they hated us. You can always tell – it's in their eyes. That look that says, 'You're garbage to me. I wish you were dead.'"

The door swung open suddenly and Lieutenant Susan Nicoletti walked in.

"What do you want?" snapped Torres.

"I came to get my jacket," said Nicoletti, her tone defensive. "Did I interrupt some secret renegade club meeting?"

"Grab it and get out; we're busy."

Nicoletti grabbed her jacket of a hook and headed back out without a word. As soon as the door shut, Strickler turned back to Torres.

"You see? It's just like that - plain-old dislike, no racial hate at all. That's probably all it is."

Torres folded her arms and scowled. "If you don't believe me, you could just say so. You don't have to try and convince me I didn't see what I saw."

Strickler stood up and moved closer to her roommate. "It's not that I don't believe you think he doesn't like you. I'm just asking you to keep your mind open and try not to…" She trailed off, searching for the right words.

"What?" said Torres. "Overreact? That was what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

"I was trying to find a better word for it, but yes; try not to overreact."

"Fine. I'll see what I can do. And I'm not responsible for what happens if he gets in my way." Torres moved to leave, but Strickler jumped in front of her.

"Oh yes you are. One careless comment is no reason to knock someone over. You should know that by now. On our ship, it didn't matter so much but here, there are actual consequences. You heard what the captain said about fighting. One more incident and we're up doing drills before dawn."

"She was bluffing."

"I doubt it. She doesn't seem like someone who goes back on her word. If you lose it and punch him, I'm not going to back you up to everyone else."

Torres looked hurt for a fraction of a second, then withdrew even further into herself.

"Aw hell, Claire, it's bad enough I have to get this kind of treatment from the Seafleeters, now I have to get it from you too?"

"No, B'Elanna, that's not what I meant."

"You think I'm aggressive, out of control, prone to starting fights?"

"No!"

"Then what?"

Strickler squirmed a little, trying to clarify her words. Torres drummed her fingers on her thigh.

"I'm waiting!"

"Impulsive! You're kind of impulsive – that's what I was trying to say. You have to admit, there have been times when you've acted before thinking it all the way through. But it's not the same as aggressive- impulsive describes you better. I'm sorry it's got such a negative connotation, but your impulsiveness has gotten us out of few bad situations, so it's not so bad."

Someone banged loudly on the door.

"Torres! Your shift started five minutes ago! Get out on deck, now!"

"I'm coming!" she shouted back. Torres fastened her belt and attached the baldric, then started for the door.

"B'Elanna," said Strickler. "I'm your friend – I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble."

"Yeah, I know," Torres mumbled. "I'll see you later."

Torres stormed out on deck, feeling sour. Carey waited for her at the top of the ladder, arms crossed.

"When your shift starts at twelve hundred hours," he began, "that's when I expect to see you at your post."

She folded her own arms. "What do you want?"

"I want you to follow protocol, for one thing. Next time, a more appropriate greeting might be, 'reporting as ordered, sir.' Bear in mind that I'm your superior officer."

"We're the same rank – I don't have to call you 'sir.'"

"I'm the officer on deck and you will observe regulations!"

"You're just the acting bosun until the captain picks someone."

"She's going to pick me – I'm next in line. Why? Does it bother you that you might be working for someone you hate? Well, you-"

"Are we done?"

Carey let out a frustrated sigh. "We're done. Get to work."

Torres turned and headed for the shrouds to climb up to the fighting top, but Carey called her back down.

"What?" she said, speaking over the wind.

"I want you fixing the running lines on deck."

She frowned at him. "That's a lay job. I'm better off up top, reattaching the sail. Anyone can clean up lines."

"Right, and since you're anyone, you can do it just fine. Clean up the lines – that's an order."

She felt her jaw clench, but somehow kept her temper in check. Without another word, she turned and headed for the pins by the rail. They were a mess, naturally, and she set to fixing and retying all the knots that had come loose. The occasional spatter of rain and hard wind were an inconvenience, but no great trouble. She had been through far worse weather. Carey harrumphed somewhere behind her and she put him out of her mind. He didn't seem to care too much for her. But after what Strickler said, she wasn't sure if he was picking on her because she was Klingon or because she was a renegade. All she knew was that he really annoyed her. Hopefully, he'd leave her to do her job instead of pestering her and she wouldn't have to knock him flat on his –

A shout from up above caught her attention. Hogan and some of the Seafleeters were trying to secure the new sail to the yardarm. The head of the sail was too loose; she could see it all the way from the deck. She whistled to get Hogan's attention.

"Hey! Tie the loops in the line in six-centimeter gaps, not ten! It'll hold better."

"Belay that!" shouted Carey. "This isn't a renegade ship – keep the loops at ten!"

Hogan and his team shouted an acknowledgment and got back to work.

"Torres, what do you think you're doing?" Carey asked.

"Tying the loops closer together puts less strain on the sail – it'll last longer too."

"We follow regulations on this ship. And don't you try to give my crew an order like that again – I'm in charge, not you."

Torres ground her teeth together and crushed the rope in her hands. Chakotay was going to hear about this when her shift ended.

Her action must have given Carey an idea, because he moved over to the belaying pins to inspect her work. He frowned at what he saw.

"That's not how you tie a bowline," said Carey. "It's not standard."

"Hey, you told me to fix the lines and I'm fixing them. What does it matter how they're tied? This way works just fine."

"I don't care how it worked out for you; it's not regulation and we're not doing it."

That was it. "To hell with regulations!" she shouted. "You're so caught up in rules; you can't see what might be more practical. Besides, out on the open water, they're more like guidelines anyway."

People, overhearing their shouting match, started to gather.

"Regulations are in place for a reason!" said Carey. "And you are under orders to follow them!"

"Do you want this rigging to come flying apart the next time we hit a storm? Because that's what's going to happen. Believe me; I've seen it before."

She turned away from him and started tying the knot. Carey shoved her aside and yanked the knot apart. Torres said nothing, simply spun around and punched him. He staggered back a few steps, clutching his bleeding nose.

"Damn kronker!" he shouted, lunging for her. Torres only had a moment to absorb the fact that she was right about him before he slugged her across the jaw with all his strength. His blow knocked her backwards, but only stunned her for a moment.

"Worthless bikka!" she bellowed. She all but leaped at him, wanting nothing more than to crack his head against the deck.

Six pairs of hands seized her and pulled her back; four pairs held onto Carey, keeping him still. The two struggled mightily; still yelling and threatening each other, when suddenly a voice shouted, "Stand down!"

Everyone turned to see Captain Janeway striding over, a fire in her eyes.

"I thought I made myself clear yesterday – no more fighting." Few things in the world were more frightening than an angry captain and the fighting lieutenants were taking the brunt of her fury. Torres felt her anger vanish in the presence of the captain's own.

"Four days on half rations, the both of you. Get yourselves cleaned up, then report immediately to the pumps." She glared at them, then spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "And the rest of you can look forward to calisthenics tomorrow morning."

Groans and other frustrated noises rang out across the deck, along with accusations.

"Nice going, Torres."

"Way to get us all in trouble, Carey."

The ocean had been growing rougher ever since that first shower of rain after the morning meeting. _Voyager_ pitched and heaved over the waves, which were growing larger with every passing hour. Kes had thought all of this was very exciting, until the motion began to make her sick. She had laid down for a while after completing her proposal, hoping a nap would drive it off, but no such luck. Worse, she had had to skip out on lunch, no longer confident that she would have been able to keep it down. Neelix hadn't been upset that she wasn't able to eat his food, but when she decided to visit the doctor, he began to protest and insisted on coming with her.

"I don't know how I feel letting an artificial being give you medicine as if it knew what it was doing," said Neelix, his arm around Kes's shoulders. Kes was far paler than usual and had dark circles under her eyes.

"The crew said he's a copy of the original doctor and contains all his knowledge," said Kes, speaking softly. "They seem to trust him, so we can too."

"It's not that I don't trust him, dearest, it's just that he's not the only one who knows how to treat sickness. I had to take care of myself when I was a trader, you know, and you can't always count on there being a doctor on the next ship you saw. I developed all kinds of cures and remedies on my own, plus there was all the folk medicine I learned before I left home. I'm sure one of them will work for you."

Kes swayed dizzily as the ship lurched over a swell and Neelix caught her.

"Don't worry, Neelix," she said as he pulled her even closer. "The Doctor won't hurt me. No offense, but I need to take some medicine that I know will work."

They entered sickbay to find it already full of people. Lieutenant Carey was lying on one of the three beds, holding a bloody rag to his nose.

"You keep that maniac away from me!" shouted Carey. "I don't want her in my department. I refuse to work with her!"

"The captain will resolve this matter as she sees fit, Lieutenant," said Tuvok. "In the meantime, you and she will serve your punishments together without complaint."

"What?" Carey sat up, wincing as the doctor prodded his face. "She attacked me!"

"And you reciprocated, potentially escalating the conflict. I should not have to remind you of the consequences of striking a fellow officer."

"So now I'm facing a court martial? Look what she did to me!" He tried to leave the bed, but the doctor put a hand on his chest and shoved him back down.

"It's a miracle you survived," the Doctor snapped. "Now hold still or this will never stop bleeding." He took a few handfuls of cotton and started to pack Carey's nose with them.

"You are expected to follow orders, just as she is," said Tuvok. "Is that understood, Mr. Carey?"

"Yes, sir," said Carey, speaking through a stuffed nose. The Doctor leaned back, taking a look around the sickbay to see if anyone else needed treatment and his eyes fell on Neelix and Kes. The others who had escorted Carey in, including Tuvok, left as the pair walked in.

"What can I do for the two of you?" the Doctor asked.

"It's barely worth your attention," said Neelix. "Kes just has a trifling headache."

"It is not!" Kes glared at him. "I feel terrible."

The Doctor turned from Carey to examine Kes; checking her pulse on her wrist, inspecting her eyes and mouth for anything amiss. Neelix hovered nearby, watching closely.

"What are your symptoms?" the doctor asked.

"I'm sick to my stomach, dizzy, and disoriented."

The doctor straightened, looking disappointed.

"That's it? You came down here for a simple case of seasickness? You hardly need my help for that. Everybody gets seasick from time to time."

"Well, I've never been seasick before," said Kes. "Can't you do anything?"

He sighed as if the weight of the world had just been laid on his shoulders. He moved toward a counter full of interesting things and poured water from a pitcher into a teapot. Moments later, steam came whistling out. He emptied the steaming water into a cup and added a pinch of something.

"A little ginger tea should help with your nausea," he said, handing her the cup of spicy smelling liquid. "As for the rest, you'll adapt in time. I find it rather ponderous that someone who has never been out to sea would be posted on a ship on her maiden voyage."

Kes sipped at the tea. "Oh, I'm not part of the original crew. Captain Janeway took Neelix and I aboard after the trip started."

"And no one gave you a physical examination once you came aboard?" he said. They shook their heads. Something seemed to occur to him.

"Of course. That would be the ship's doctor's job. Which means it falls to me, whether I like it or not."

The doctor pulled a large book out of his desk and started leafing through it.

"As long as you're both here, I might as well examine you. Fortunately, it won't take long to update my records, seeing as there are only two of you."

"So you already examined all the renegades?" asked Neelix. The doctor stared at him, book forgotten on the desk.

"What renegades?"

"The crew from the other ship. They came aboard after their ship sank."

"And naturally, no one thought to inform me," said the doctor. He heaved another sigh and muttered, "It seems I've found myself on the voyage of the damned."

"I'm sure it won't take long," said Kes. "There were only a dozen of them."

"I'm sure. Mr. Carey, would you please inform the captain that I would like to speak with her?"

There was no answer. Carey had left without so much as a goodbye.

"Hmph." The doctor turned to Kes. "Would you be so kind as to pass the message to the captain, seeing as how I can't leave this room? As soon as you're feeling better, of course."

"Certainly. And thank you for the tea; it's helping." She glanced over at the bed Carey had occupied. "I didn't hear him ask if it was all right to leave."

"He didn't. People leave when they want. Nobody waits until I tell them they can and inevitably, they come back complaining about a problem I tried to warn them about."

Kes was shocked. "I thought these were good people! How can they be so rude? They shouldn't treat you like that."

The doctor shrugged. "I'm trying to get used to it. People tend to not have a lot of respect for a Construct, even if he's the one in charge of keeping them healthy." He bustled about, putting things away. "And you'd think they'd have at least a little respect for the one who not only sets broken bones and stitches up wounds, but also finds the time to treat even the smallest of toothaches."

She slid off the bed and put her hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn't have to get used to it. You deserve to be treated with respect, like any other person."

"But I'm not a person. I'm just an assemblage of cohesive ether; an extremely sophisticated one, but that's all."

Kes shook her head. "I don't think so. You seem like more. I'll talk to the captain about that too."

The doctor smiled. "Thank you."

Neelix took Kes by the hand. "Come on, dear, we should get to work on dinner. See you later, doctor… you know, I don't think I heard your name."

The doctor shrugged. "I don't have one. Perhaps you could ask the captain about that as well?"

Kes smiled. "My pleasure."

As Carey and Torres were escorted away, the rest of the crew stood around, wearing looks of disbelief and disappointment. 0500 drills were not going to be fun. Janeway frowned at the sight.

"What are you all standing around for? You're on duty! Back to work!"

"Aye Captain!" shouted the crew. They headed back to their stations, calling instructions to each other.

"Captain, can I see you in your office?" asked Chakotay. Janeway nodded, mouth tight, and jerked her head toward the office door. They marched quickly across the rolling deck made slick by more rain and headed inside. Once the door was closed, Chakotay spoke.

"Now I think you're going too far," he said. The captain turned and glared at him. He didn't flinch. "You don't need to punish the whole crew for what two people did."

"The idea was for the rest of the crew to stop fights before they started to keep themselves out of trouble," said Janeway.

"I know; it's the oldest trick in the book. I used to use it when I served in Seafleet. But I don't think this is a situation it's suited for. You aren't going to win any favor with the crew by forcing them all to do calisthenics every morning."

"It encourages discipline," said Janeway, getting a hard look in her eye. "That is something no ship can function without. If it makes me unpopular, then so be it."

Chakotay saw in her eyes and posture that she didn't want to be unpopular and he took it as a sign that she could be swayed; if not, at least willing to hear him out.

"You need trust before you can have discipline," he said. "The Seafleeters trust you, but a lot of the renegades still don't. You have to show them that you trust them first."

"What are you trying to say, Commander?"

Chakotay took a steadying breath. This was going to be the hardest part.

"You need a renegade on the senior staff."

"I already have one – you."

Frustration had been welling inside him since the beginning, but it all seemed to come to a boil at that one statement. She was so arrogant in her rank and knowledge; thinking she had all the answers because she was a Seafleet captain. She had dismissed his suggestion with a wave of her hand, as if he only mattered - or indeed had only been made an officer – to keep the renegades in line. _And that,_ he thought to himself, _is outside of enough._

"I'm not going to be your token renegade officer!" he said, not quite shouting. "You want the crew to work together? Get along better? Then set an example. Show the senior officers integrating, Seafleet and renegade alike. Give them another renegade officer to prove they're being fairly represented."

"And who do you recommend, Commander?" she said, speaking in a low voice.

"Make B'Elanna Torres the new bosun."

Janeway looked aghast. "You want me to put that wild woman in charge of deck operations?"

Chakotay bristled. "She's not wild, she's just…expressive. And she's brilliant. She got us out of more scrapes than I can count. She deserves to be the bosun with the talent she has."

The captain set her jaw. "She's facing a court martial for striking a fellow officer."

"So is Carey. And you and I both know that that's not going to happen this far away from Federation waters. You can punish them however you think is fair, but by the time it's over, one of them is going to be chosen as bosun because no one else is qualified. And I think you should choose B'Elanna, not just for the sake of the renegades, but because she'd do a better job."

Janeway stepped closer to him, speaking almost in his face. "People wait years for a position like this to become available to them. What do I tell Carey, that he's good, but some former rebel might be better?"

"Her past isn't in question here. This is about skills and experience and know-how. If you aren't going to promote people based on that, then how can you do it based on seniority alone and call it fair?"

Janeway folded her arms and regarded him without comment. Chakotay relaxed a little; she was taking him seriously. He took another calming breath and went on.

"Ask yourself this: how much experience does Carey have trying to improvise solutions with minimal supplies? That's not something they teach at the academy. He might be qualified by academics, but he can't think outside the rulebook. That's something you learn on the open water. We couldn't rely on support from allies and neither can you. She knows what she's doing. That's why you need her."

"And I'm just supposed to take your word on this?"

"Of course not. Talk to her. Get to know her. I know you want the crew to have a fair chance too, but you aren't going to know how to give them that chance unless you talk to them. You said you were going to trust me – shouldn't you trust my judgment too?"

The captain sighed. "All right, Commander, you've made your point. I'll talk to her. But don't take this to mean I've made my choice yet. And don't think I'll let her out of her out of her punishment."

Chakotay nodded. "Of course not."

"Dismissed." He left without another word, but feeling better on B'Elanna's behalf. The hard part now would be getting B'Elanna herself to listen to the captain.


End file.
